


The Blue and Gold

by juggyjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Homelessness, Hurt, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9944432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juggyjones/pseuds/juggyjones
Summary: A series of missing scenes featuring primarily Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones, throughout the episodes.





	1. The Horror's After

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This will be a series of one shots, albeit made up of missing scenes that I think would fit in with the canon. Every event stays true to the TV show and these are just little excerpts of Betty and Jughead's friendship/relationship.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead comforts Betty after the encounter with Grandma Blossom.

The horror, the horror! - were the words Jughead used to describe the old lady before the duo, but the real horror came once Betty stormed out. 

There was about a gazillion thoughts running through the boy’s mind. There was also about a gazillion and one he couldn’t grant time right now, seeing as his companion was likely to get lost in the Thornhill mansion. 

“Betty!” he called out, once out of the room. “Where are you?”

He shouldn’t have yelled, that’s for starters. People were still downstairs but his voice was loud enough to be heard from even there. They really didn’t need the Blossoms asking questions.

He paced around the hallway, taking a turn after a turn in search for the blonde. She couldn’t have gotten far, and there were faint footsteps echoing somewhere nearby.

“Betty, where are you?” he called again, in a lower voice this time.

With the back of his hand, he wiped away the sweat from his forehead. He should’ve taken the suit off before going running around; he wouldn’t have gotten so hot then.

Instead, he did it now, half-sweating already. He unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt, thankful for the suspenders that were keeping the lower part of his suit in place. 

It was winter, he was overheating while running after Betty Cooper. Who would’ve thought?

He found her in one of the empty rooms - it looked like it might’ve been Jason’s - and the sight nearly broke his heart.

Even though there was a queen sized bed not even five feet from her, she opted for the floor instead. Her bared knees were brought to her chin and even though she wasn’t crying, her eyes were puffy and her cheeks red. She wrapped her hands around her knees, pulling them so close yet he could still see she was shaking.

Her jacket lay on the ground beside her, thrown away carelessly in a matter that was entirely unlike Betty. Even the way she crouched on the floor, not daring look up to him, was nothing he’d expect from her. 

He knew she wasn’t made of stone, but seeing her in a situation where she bares it all made him feel ill.

“Betty,” he whispered. “Bets.”

When she raised her chin, he felt a wave of emotion wash over him.

This is wrong, he thought. She shouldn’t be hurt like this.

The blue in her eyes intensified; they seemed bigger, more vulnerable, weaker. There was nothing left of the strong Betty she tries so hard to be, nothing. The girl in front of him was Elizabeth Cooper at her weakest and there was something devastatingly heartbreaking in the way she looked at him.

He crouched before her, without a word. Not once did they break eye contact; the temperature went up for a few degrees, he could’ve sworn. 

A single tear ran down her cheek and she swallowed dryly. Her lower lip trembled; his eyes remained on it for a heartbeat too long. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t want to wipe it away, wrap her in his arms and keep her safe until she gets better.

Betty’s lips parted and he waited in anticipation, but she closed them with a brief shake of head. 

He returned a nod; soft and warming, he hoped.

“Are you cold?” 

She shook her head again. Her eyes flickered to the coat in his hands and he knew she was lying. Carefully and gently, he placed it around her shoulders, fingers lingering a moment too long. 

He cleared his throat. “This is a mess, Betty, but you’ll get through it.”

Her eyes found his again, this time with plead in them. Plead and pain, lips quivering. 

She didn’t have to say it out loud.

Jughead didn’t know what to do. In all his years of life, he’d never been in this situation. So, not having any better idea, he sat next to the quiet blonde.

They were going to have to leave soon, they both knew that. He thought he should maybe remind her, but every time he’d try, the words would stuck in his throat.

Betty might’ve not been crying, but he would’ve taken it more easily if she were. This - the empty look on her face - was a dozen times worse, a million times harder to watch. 

His hand found hers and he squeezed it lightly; Betty looked at him, before leaning her head against his shoulder. Next thing he knew, his other hand was wrapped around her and he pulled her close, making sure his coat covered all of his body. 

There weren’t words he could’ve said to make it better. He could’ve tried telling her it was going to be all right, but he knew better. It was just going downhill from here.

All she needed was someone who wouldn’t let her be alone in moments like these, and Jughead intended to be that person. 

When it was high time for them to leave, he gave her a little nudge. His back hurt from keeping both their weight and he was a little cold, but Betty’s breathing had finally steadied and any movement he’d make would make it bad again. 

He didn’t want to leave. It felt like they were frozen in time, just the two of them; their worries were still there, still looming over their heads, but they didn’t feel as bad. Here, in some Thornhill bedroom, they were safe from the horrors waiting for them.

But they needed to leave. 

He woke her up gently, by removing a strand of hair from her face. She nuzzled her head against her neck, bringing a heavy smile to his lips; they needed to go.

“Betty, c’mon.”

He helped her stand up, watching her every move. She avoided eye contact. 

“We need to leave.”

He picked up her jacket and laced arms with her. There wasn’t even a question from either side about this; Jughead thought he was doing this because he was afraid she might collapse if he lets her do it on her own. 

Truth was, he did it also because he felt like letting go of her would expose her to the cruelty of the world. She didn’t deserve it.

Nobody noticed them when they left, not even their friends. He escorted her to her doorway and when they checked none of her parents had come home yet, he followed her to her bedroom.

“You didn’t have to come all the way.”

It was a wonder, to hear her voice. He’d almost forgotten how sweet it sounded.

Jughead shook his head, looking at her without a smile on his face. “I needed to make sure you’re okay.”

They didn’t talk again until she was in her bed, resting. He’d stayed with her until she fell asleep, because she didn’t ask him to leave. Knowing she wasn’t alone made him feel better, because he felt like he’d been at least partially guilty because of what happened today.

She looked peaceful, for the first time since the encounter with Grandma Rose. More than anyone he knew, Betty Cooper deserved a few hours of warm, blissful peace. 

He left the residence before her parents came home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one for riverdalefiction on tumblr. this will probably be a season-long series with a few 'missing scenes' in each of the episodes, i think


	2. Lone Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead’s wandering around Riverdale for a place for the night, while a certain blonde is clouding his thoughts.

The night was quiet and eerie; the cold felt like a hundred daggers against his exposed cheeks and nose. He’d tried covering them with a scarf, but to no avail; it was all too chilly for his liking.

Jughead scoffed lightly, rubbing the back of his palm against his nose. It’d gotten so cold to the point where he could hardly even feel it. Yet despite all this, his legs still reached one before another, not letting him rest for a minute. It was the end of the third day he’s been without a roof over his head and he still needed to find another one.

Could he have talked to Archie? Yes, absolutely. He was certain both his friend and his father would’ve loved to give him shelter, at least for a while. The problem was, they’d pity him and really, Jughead didn’t need pity.

This was his choice, after all.

So, the Andrewses were out of the question. He wasn’t going to go to his own father, no matter what, and the only option left was Betty. 

Truth be told, Jughead was sure the Coppers had a spare bed and Betty certainly wouldn’t mind him spending the night. The problem with that option was her parents, whom even she had trouble standing - and now, with them being official suspects (as concluded by the star detective team Betty & Jughead) he didn’t even want to. 

Jughead blew into his hands, trying to warm up. He stood in the middle of the town, at the main square, not knowing where to go next. 

Riverdale wasn’t big. It was a fairly small town, where not everyone has heard of everyone, but rumors still spread quickly enough for him not to want to be seen. He didn’t want others to know.

Especially not the nice, kindhearted Betty Cooper. She had enough problems of her own, without him admitting to her he’s been homeless for a while. 

Tightening the backpack straps on his shoulders, he took a left - towards the school. Now, he wasn’t exactly fond of what he was doing, but the room where he and Betty set up their murder board was the only place he could think of. There wasn’t heating, but at least he knew no one came in there. 

It was a twenty minutes’ walk. One that he spent thinking about a lot of things, but one that kept constantly coming back to him was the face Betty would have if he told her the truth.

“Oh my god,” she’d say, “Juggy, I’m so sorry!”

And he’d say something along the lines of: “It’s fine, Bets, I’m handling it. Don’t worry about me.”

She wouldn’t buy it. Archie maybe would, but Betty? No way. Knowing her, she’d manage to get him to agree him to sleeping over at her place even though Mrs. Alice ‘Mom Of The Year’ Cooper or Mr. Hal ‘I Might’ve Murdered My Future Son-In-Law’ Cooper could’ve found him.

He could picture her face, though. She’d stare at him for a moment, waiting for a punchline to follow up - and when it wouldn’t, her shoulders would relax at once. Her lower lip would quiver and her eyebrows would turn upwards, her gaze intensifying. 

She’d drop all the walls, all the strong persona she’s been building up to, showing how much this affected her. She’d push away all her worries about Jason and Polly and Archie and she’d say something to comfort him, not caring about herself the least. 

In that very hypothetical moment in a very hypothetical situation, Jughead would be her number one. He didn’t like the fact that somehow, it didn’t seem to be that much of a bother to him. 

That was why he needed to stay away from Betty Cooper, he thought as he strolled down the school’s street. He’s never liked being the center of attention, yet he wouldn’t mind it if it meant she worried about him.

She was his best friend. They’d always hung out around one another, except not quite together. Now with Archie busy with his own worries, and Betty and Jughead working as a team, he felt like they’ve never been closer.

He knew she felt that way, too. When he came to him with the news about Polly, he knew it. 

And he didn’t like how much that meant to him. The whole point of him detaching himself from everything and everyone in his life was to not get hurt. Seeing as Betty constantly gets herself involved in dangerous situations, breaks into people’s cars, talks to creepy one-eyed Blossom grandmas, it was going to happen.

“Damn it, Betty.” 

His fingers worked the lock with a hairpin. It was around midnight and no one was at school, but he still sneaked on his tiptoes to the Blue and Gold editorial room. 

A.K.A. he and Betty’s HQ. 

Betty, again Betty. She was everywhere, like a pest he couldn’t get rid of. Not that he thought of her like a pest - he’d just like, for once, to wallow and mope on his own. It was tiring enough that his mind constantly raced to her during the day, wondering what kind of mess she was now getting into. 

He was homeless. The place he’d last called home and that was home to him more than everything else got demolished, forcing him to stay on the street. The substitute place for living was the school. Also, someone murdered Jason Blossom.

Those were the problems he was supposed to be thinking about. He should’ve been trying to connect the threads on the murder case, figure out the killer and finish his novel - one that, by the way, he was currently working on under a desk - not think about Betty.

Or how he didn’t like when she said she was going on a date with Trevor. The boy Jason Blossom used to hang out with, the one whom she actually used for intel - that meant he couldn’t be good news.

Jughead spent most of the night working on his novel to get her out of his mind. It worked, for a while - that is, until she texted him at four in the morning asking if they could meet up at their HQ before school. 

‘of course,’ he texted back. ‘will be there at six.’

When he put the phone away and placed his fingers back on the keyboard, no words would come out. Even when he looked at the murder board that he’d redecorated a little, there was nothing.

All because a certain blonde was clouding his mind.


	3. City of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the night after Betty and Jughead found Jason’s car and falling to sleep proves difficult for both of them, especially as neither can take the other off their mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the events of 1x06, told in dual point of view.

Betty lay in her bed with a hand on her heart, massaging the spot to brush away the heaviness. Her chest felt jagged from the things she’s been through in less than twenty four hours and more than anything else, Betty Cooper needed to breathe.

She needed to go out, into the night and take in the fresh air until the rocks in her lungs burst out. Every inhale felt difficult and exhales were painful for her sore throat, her feet itching to go outside.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d find Polly somewhere.

With a sigh that fell heavy to her lips, the blonde pulled the covers off of her. The cold late autumn air nibbled at her naked calves; she’d forgotten to turn on the heating, _again_. It turned even worse when her feet touched the floor a little to the left, missing the carpet and sending shivers down her spine.

Betty closed her eyes. She felt her heart racing against the ribcage and she pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe evenly through her nose. She’d read somewhere that that was the best way to breathe - or maybe in on the mouth, out through the nose?

Her toes wiggled against the floor as her thumbs massaged her temples. _Breathe, Betty, breathe_ ** _,_  **she kept telling herself. _You’re of no use panicking and overthinking._

Truth was, Betty thought as she rose to her feet, she should be out there. Her sister was likely wounded and heavily pregnant, freezing to death in some decaying shack with no one to hold onto. 

_No, Betty, think of the facts. She’s hurt, but there wasn’t much blood so it must’ve been a minor injury. The rest is just you over-analyzing everything. Stop doing it, just stop. It’s not your fault she’s out there and alone-_

“Shut up,” the blonde mused. “Just shut up.”

It took her couple of moments to drag her lazy feet to the window. The floor was still pressing sharp thorns of cold into her skin, but she decided not to care, or turn on the heating. Only in a nightgown that barely reached her midthigh, her body was exposed to the shivers of the October night. 

If someone asked, she’d have said she wanted to feel some cold. In reality, on a deep, subconscious level, Betty Cooper was punishing herself for not arriving on time to save her sister from escaping. 

Her fingers trembled as she reached to open the window, pulling it upwards. It gave away a creak and her blood froze in her veins; someone must’ve heard her. But no one ever came and she realized it was her stress, anxiety and adrenaline heightening her senses. 

Soft breeze ruffled her hair as her head peered out of the window. Across the street, Archie’s light was out and she couldn’t see in. Back two months ago, she would’ve died for a chance to talk to him on a night like this - but now, Betty knows there are better things to die for. 

Riverdale was peaceful. Aside from Betty, nobody was on the streets, or even awake at three in the morning. It felt like it was her against the world. 

When her thoughts rushed to her sister and she was drowning in guilt once again, she felt her eyes stinging and closed them shut to hurry the pain away. She was a bundle of negativity; worry, guilt, concern and shame all washed over her like a waterfall she couldn’t move away from. 

So she opened her eyes, counted from one to four then one to eleven and looked to the stars. 

Seeing the flickering lights above her would usually bring a smile to her face. It’d make her feel small, insignificant, but in a good way -- she was a part of _all this_. Of something greater than herself. And it reminded her to be the best she could be because maybe someone needs her to be. 

At that point, with her lips parting as memory as tangible as the real kiss came back, she found something else to hold onto. A certain someone, rather. 

Her index finger touched her lips where Jughead kissed her first; and then she felt his hands on her neck, soft and gentle as if careful not to break her. And his smile when she thought of the car, and how he made her laugh even though she was boiling with a thousand too many bad thoughts.

Her lips didn’t curve into a smile, not this time. But there was something in her chest, something other than rocks straining her lungs. 

Not that things were going to be all right. Instead it felt like maybe, with him, she wouldn’t have to go through it all alone. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Few blocks from where the blonde was finally not overwhelmed with her situation anymore, lied a dark hair boy, unable to convey his emotions into words. 

Jughead had gone to sleep about an hour ago, after putting everything they’ve learned during the day on the murder board. He’d never thought seeing so many things connected to the Coopers would hurt, but it did. Because he knew it’ll hurt _her_ , when she sees it in the morning. And he knew she’ll brush it away and try to treat her family as no other, but it won’t matter. He’ll see through it. And it’ll hurt him, too.

Involuntarily, his eyes trailed over the board. He watched the thread he’d put on there connect the Coopers and Polly and Jason, unsettled. It wasn’t right; Betty’s family shouldn’t be put on a pedestal like that.

He took in a deep breath; slowly. His lips trembled a little, but it wasn’t from the cold. Several blankets were thrown over him after he realized he couldn’t turn on the school heating and running away to any other part of the school was out of limits.

So the Blue and Gold office it is.

It wasn’t a nice sleep. Truth be told, he hadn’t got much of it anyway - working on his novel was his top priority as well as figuring out who the killer was, everything else coming second. He’d go to sleep late with his mind still writing the novel, and wake up early to take a long look at the murder board, long before Betty would come for the Blue and Gold. 

He was desperate to find the killer. It’d give him some sense of purpose, of meaning; he doubted he’d still feel like a no one if he were the one to find the murderer of Jason Blossom. Maybe it’d make him feel better. 

It was all a game of chance and the dice hasn’t been thrown. He still lived on different places every week, getting the least sleep in his entire life, function solely on will. Nights were getting colder and longer and Riverdale was getting messier and he was losing track of things and-

_No._

He wasn’t going to let his thoughts get the better of him. It was three in the morning and he’d been trying to fall asleep for an hour, in vain. Things would always go in circle; he’d think about the murder, then his situation, then things would get bad and he’d be trying to find an anchor to pull him steady.

This wasn’t how teenagers are supposed to feel. They don’t float around other people’s lives with nothing to attach to, nothing to set root to. They have families, even as bad as the Coopers, that hold them together. 

Jughead didn’t have a family. He had Archie, then he didn’t. Now he has Betty, or so he thinks. He couldn’t be sure, not after everything that happened.

Slowly but steadily, Jughead made his way over to his desk. The murder board was placed right before it and his eyes lingered it for a little. His back were sore from weeks of sleeping on a flat ground, and it’d gotten worse since he lost the Drive-In. 

Stretch and yawn, that was the routine. Then he’d go over to the murder board to look for more clues, despite knowing it like the back of his hand, until his eyes would sting and he couldn’t keep them open anymore. When he’d lay into his improvised bed, he’d crash without a sound and wake hour to two later only to have things repeat themselves.

That was the routine. But tonight it just wasn’t working.

There was the familiar stinging in his eyes and a yawn on his lips, but it was a different kind of tired. His limbs felt numb and heavy and he knew he’d been worrying more and harder and more _intense_  than usual. Even when he brought his hand to ruffle his bedhead, it was an action that took too much energy from him.

Jughead Jones was tired beyond his age. Tired of the burden life had given him, tired of running around trying to solve a murder, tired of watching his friends lose themselves in this chaos, tired of his family being torn apart, tired from the lack of sleep. 

He was tired of being tired.

A dry laugh escaped his lips. “Melodramatic wuss.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to get any work done and he wasn’t going to get any sleep, either, he walked over to the window. It was different, looking at Riverdale under the moonlight. There seemed to be some kind of vibe in it, falling up the town like a mist they couldn’t rid. 

At that moment, he thought of Betty - not the first time that night. His thoughts wandered off to their moment earlier that day, before they’d found the car and before they realized her sister had escaped. 

With her, he felt calm. He didn’t overthink and over analyze things so much, and they seemed easier to bear with. That was why he kissed her. Not because there was some desire, or lust - pressing his lips against hers felt like the only right thing to do.

Also, he’d been waiting to do that for a long time now, but it wasn’t like he’d imagined. He held her face in his hands because she was fragile, hurt and confused and scared and there was nothing he could’ve said to fix it. But he wanted to, he wanted to fix it _so badly_ , but he couldn’t. 

They were just teenagers. Things weren’t meant to go that way for either of them, but here they are - her with crazy manipulative parents and a runaway pregnant sister, and him with no roof above his head and no family to talk to. 

What a pair, they were.

He chuckled at the thought. They weren’t a pair, but a team. Murder and Scully, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boy, Sherlock and Watson. 

Jughead wondered what she was doing. He doubted she’d be able to fall asleep, after all she’s been through. There was a chance she was lying awake few blocks from here, staring at her ceiling just like he’d been not so long ago.

And he hoped, more than anything, that she was okay. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Betty’s hands lingered on the windowsill, knuckles white. She could jump, take a backpack with the necessities and go find her sister on her own. She would go find Jughead before anything else, because she wouldn’t be able to do it without him. 

Not when he makes her feel like she can do it. And she can, she always could. 

But her hands soften the grip and her chest releases, because that’s not the right thing to do. Because she’s young, just a teenager, and Polly’s being searched for by many people way more skilled than she was. Because she wasn’t in the state to go wandering around for her missing sister, even if with Jughead.

Instead she climbed back into her bed, leaving the window open and staring at the stars. She felt something stinging in his chest again and her thoughts reverted back to the boy with jet black hair and how he’d calmed it the previous time.

Now it stung again, but from a different reason.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He thought about checking up on her. There was a nagging feeling that had already become a resident in the pit of his stomach that told him she wasn’t doing much better than him. 

It would be easy. He knew she wanted to find Polly, and he could help out. He knew few good and covered places for a sleep in the woods and he could lead them there. He could _help._

Jughead almost does it. Almost, because right before he reaches for his backpack, he realizes it’s not up to him to do any of it. 

He’s just a silent observer.

So he lets go of the backpack before he’d even taken it and goes back to his bed, with only moonlight making the room not a total darkness resembling his mind. And, he thought with a little smile on his face, this would be a good metaphor for his current state.

His mind, engulfed by darkness and burdened by heavy thoughts that never ceased to find their home in the very depths of his soul, and the only shimmer of light being Betty.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Betty closed her eyes a little while later, her lips still feeling the way Jughead’s moved against them. She thinks of it because it makes her heart ache in a different way, and she needs it right now - she needs a distraction from everything going on.

But it’s more than just a distraction, and she knows it. She feels his hands on her neck and she knows he’s her pull to the world, one of the few reasons why she hadn’t given in to the thought of being crazy.

 _We’re all crazy,_  he’d told her. That was all she needed to hear. 

She fell asleep at four in the morning, with tears on her cheeks but a smile on her face. There was so much going on and every time she felt it going bad again, she thought of how grounded she felt whenever he’d hug her, or give her hands a squeeze to make sure she knows he’s here for her.

And he is. He’s here for her. And that’s why she cried and that’s why she smiled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jughead didn’t fall asleep at any time. He lied away in bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, thinking of the ways he could help Betty. They needed to find Polly and if he wasn’t going to work on his novel or the murder board, he might as well do his best to do one thing he currently can.

But she was there, on his mind, no matter what he did. He’d think of her at the home for troubled youths, how she tried to get to her sister and how she fought to not let her be taken away. He’d think of her sad smile when he visited her at her room, before he’d kissed her and he’d think of how she didn’t look as bad after they’d talked for a while.

He wanted to go to her straight away, just to make sure she wasn’t half as lost as he thought she might be. It wouldn’t matter to him that it’s four in the morning or that she might be asleep, but he feared she wouldn’t want to see him. Not after everything with Polly and the car and everything else that happened.

More than anything, he wanted to take her hand and let her know that he’s here for her. And that he’ll be here as long as she wants him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i hope you enjoyed the third addition to the series of missing scenes. as per usual, you can find me on tumblr at @riverdalefiction and make a request of your own.


End file.
